


The Very Mutant Caterpillar

by JaneDavitt



Series: Action Figure [4]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crime Fighting, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/pseuds/JaneDavitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Final part of the series. It's always about the goop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Very Mutant Caterpillar

Tony walks into the den and holds up his hand when Captain Stars 'n Stripes gets to his feet, clearly intending to leave before he gets a lungful of Tony's used air. Won't share a bed, won't accept an apology -- not that Tony's given him one, but something tells him it'd be a waste of time -- won't share oxygen molecules. Steve's been doing the pointed exits a lot recently, along with stony silences, and icy, chipped-off monosyllabic answers to questions that deserve better.

Or, as Tony likes to label it, sulking.

"As you were, soldier." Steve ignores him, heading for the door, his face set in grim lines.

 _God_ Tony wants to trip him and watch him kiss the ground. He wouldn't do it, but he wants to. He's feeling so fucking petty these days and he hates it.

He puts up his hand, reconsiders slamming it into Steve's broad, muscular chest, and jerks his thumb at the door. "Emergency. Something's getting slime over the Statue of Liberty and it's green, furry, and has tentacles, three adjectives that should never apply to the same thing, especially not when it's twenty-foot tall and the slime's corrosive."

"Green's not all bad," Bruce remarks and gives Tony a smile that's vaguely sympathetic, from one shunned, spurned beast to another, Tony guesses.

No one's taking sides exactly, though Hawkeye's made himself popcorn and settled down to watch the fun the few times he and Steve have both stayed in the same room for more than thirty seconds, but somehow it's All Tony's Fault and Steve's the injured party.

That's what happens when you've got boyish good looks, a tragic back story and a faintly virginal air about you. Instant sympathy vote.

Tony's been tempted to stand up in the middle of supper and set the record straight, but he can't do it. He'd expose himself as much as Steve and he works with these people. He leads them.

Kind of. Sort of.

They have to respect him and if they knew he'd gotten Steve naked and then failed to seal the deal, well, enough said.

And when the door closed behind Steve, leaving Tony with a hand slick with come and his gut twisted with anger and hurt, even he didn't have much respect for himself.

He'd begged. Groveled. Jerked off in front of the guy and Steve had stood there, expressionless, blank, the offer of a mercy fuck clearly made out of pity or old-fashioned good manners.

He'll have to research fuck-buddy etiquette of the Forties to be sure about the last bit.

When he isn't tackling slime monsters, of course. God forbid he has a personal life.

Once inside the suit, he feels better. No one can see his face and realize how often he's staring at Steve and grinding his teeth.

He organizes his troops; just Cap, Hawkeye and Thor; Bruce has decided to hang back until needed and Natasha's off doing something for Fury. The kind of something that Tony's learned not to ask questions about because Natasha never flinches when he does, but part of him wonders if she wants to and just can't anymore.

The crowd's thinning out when they arrive on the scene after a quick jaunt in the Quinjet. For a ten-mile trip, it was hardly worth it, but traffic's a bitch and Tony gets seasick on ferries. With the statue closed for repairs and only Liberty Island open, it's still a draw for visitors, but the monster's just not that impressive -- pathetic, really -- and the slime stinks. There's a ferry waiting to take the tourists off the island to safety, but there's no sense of panic, more a collective yawn. The world's seen a hell of a lot worse recently.

"Taste the fury of--"

Tony stops Thor just in time to save the Lady getting a thunderbolt. "Uh, Thor, don't damage the statue. It's kind of a landmark."

"But yonder creature is clinging to it. How can I attack it without damaging that to which it clings?"

"Speak English! Or speak less English English. I don't know, but we'll figure it out. That's why they pay us the big... _do_ they pay us for this?"

"A true hero's reward is the satisfaction found in victory," Thor says absently, twirling his hammer so that it blurs, making Tony wonder, not for the first time, if Mjolnir goes out of phase at times like this, sucking power from an alternate dimension. He's asked Thor to let him examine it, but Thor's insanely protective of the thing and it's not like Tony can sneak off with it.

Even the fucking hammer thinks he's unworthy.

Okay, now _he's_ pouting.

"What is it doing?" Hawkeye demands, reaching back for an arrow, then changing his mind. "Besides clinging and stinking up the place?"

A tourist taking pictures turns her head. "It came out of the water and headed right for the statue. It didn't hurt anyone, but a few people passed out because of the smell." She taps her nose. "Allergies. All stuffed up. Doesn't bother me."

The suits filters out most of it, but the fact that anything's getting through means the stench must be off the scale. Steve's looking on the pasty side and when the wind changes, Hawkeye gags.

Thor seems to be immune. Figures.

The monster's slithered over stone steps and onto copper plating, leaving a snot trail. It's reached the statue's left knee, and is moving its head from side to side as if planning out its route. What it's going to do when it gets there is anyone's guess, but Tony doesn't feel like waiting to find out.

"Hey! You! Did you buy a ticket? Stand in line? Thought not. Slither away from the historic landmark, or get zapped."

Steve tilts his head. "What _is_ it?"

"Looks like a cross between a poodle and an octopus."

Steve gives him a dismissive glance. "I don't think they'd be viable mates."

Gah. "It was a joke. Like you seem to think I am when in fact I'm dashing, heroic, and an all round good guy." Tony takes a deep breath. Focus on the target, and that isn't Steve, even though Steve seems to see him that way. What is _with_ the guy? "It doesn't seem dangerous. Nothing a bar of soap and a haircut wouldn't cure."

"It offends me," Thor says darkly. "I will smite it and let the water take its broken body."

"I think there's a law about throwing toxic waste into the ocean -- did it just say something?"

The monster's turned its head and if a face made up of slime-oozing skin-flaps and tangled hair could look pitiful, this one does.

"I _think_ it said 'Aaaargh'," Hawkeye tells him. "Maybe it's got indigestion. Am I the only noticing that the statue's dissolving and it's getting bigger? Connection? Coincidence?"

Steve's mouth falls open in horror before he takes off, shield held at the perfect angle to catch a sunray that makes it glow, lambent, bright. The guy's a walking photo-op. "It can't _do_ that!"

Tony allows himself a second or two -- okay, four -- to watch Steve's long legs and tight ass in motion. _Nice_. Even mad at him, he can still appreciate a perfect body. Knowing what's under the uniform adds a bitter-sweet tang to the lusting. 

_You can look, but you can't touch_... except, he _had_ touched it. His hands can remember the shape they'd made cupping Steve's jaw, his mouth knows what Steve's lips feel like pressed against it, warm, shy, eager.

Okay, not _that_ shy. Steve had been pretty damn clear about who was topping, after all.

Steve's shield bounces off the statue with a clang and slices a chunk off the monster. The sound bangs around inside Tony's head, dislodging some sentence fragments that he's been holding on to, apparently.

_You're not a rebound... I don't just -- not with anyone -- just..."_

_Just who?_ Tony wonders. 

Oh, sure, there are rumors. Gossip. Cap's life -- and death -- have been covered in detail. Tony's read a slim biography -- too much classified for it to be more than guesswork -- and even that spared a few pages to ponder Cap's deep attachment to his team, one man in particular.

Bucky. Long dead in Tony's timeline, but there's that chunk cut out of Cap's and so...

Tony does some quick theory-shuffling, and groans. God, the poor guy. Performance anxiety, guilt, concern that he was screwing up the team dynamic...it must've taken Steve everything he had to walk into Tony's bedroom, and it 's no surprise that he ran out of it as soon as Tony gave him a viable excuse.

"Stupid," Tony mutters under his breath as he rises up to join the fight. "Should've made it a threesome and brought Henry with us. Cut through the crap."

"See! It falls!" Thor calls out, triumphant as a ringing bell. "Well struck, Captain!

"I am _not_ cleaning up squished monster," Hawkeye says, an arrow nocked and ready.

Tony frowns. One hit from Cap and it's down? Seems too easy. He doesn't like easy.

The monster swells, its form changing rapidly, thickening, swelling. It's not falling fast enough and Tony sees the thick line of spun...something...that's wrapped around the statue and is unspooling from the creature's body, allowing the descent to be a controlled one. 

When it reaches the ground, it's barely moving and it rolls, gigantic now, a soft, amorphous blob of green and hair. The tentacles have disappeared inside it.

"Is it dead?" Steve asks.

"I'm still getting life signs," Tony tells him. "Faint but strong."

"Pick one," Steve snaps.

"Pick your nose!" And regression to age twelve is complete. He tries to explain. "They're faint because they seem far away, but if you were on top of it, they'd knock you over."

"We _are_ on top of it," Hawkeye points out.

"I _know_. The fluff's blocking them, I guess." The readings go wild and Tony circles around to land a prudent distance away. The tourists have fled now, showing commendable prudence. It's just him and his team and Steve.

The blob is hardening rapidly, green cotton candy turning to an opaque shell, glistening wetly here and there. That's followed by an ominous crackling sound as it begins to rock from side to side and split open. It's a nature movie in fast-forward and Tony has his second epiphany in as many minutes. "Anyone think that looks like a cocoon?"

"Maybe," Hawkeye says cautiously. "So you think the big hungry caterpillar's going to hatch into something we can be friends with?"

"We're about to find out," Steve says, striding over to join them. He's so fucking heroic he makes Tony's teeth ache, but he's seen the man behind the razzle-dazzle, insecure, lost, and that guy makes different parts of Tony ache. 

_Later_ , he promises himself. He'll tie Steve to his bed if he has to and make the man listen -- or talk. Both. 

It's a thing with wings, but it's sure as hell not just a giant butterfly or a moth. The tentacles are still there for one thing, transformed to thin, whip-like antennae. The wings are tattered as if the creature was born old, web-thin in places, coated with verdigris like the statue it fed on.

Tony feels an odd pity stir.

"When I find the mad scientist behind this, I'm gonna drown him or her in a vat of whatever gloop they used to do this."

"How dost thou know there was gloop?" Thor asks.

Tony sighs wearily and Hawkeye answers for both of them. "There's always gloop."

"Look, it hasn't really done anything. Maybe we can capture it, start a zoo for mutants..." Tony shakes his head as the creature rises, a thin scream slicing the air. Hate needs no translation. "No, guess not. Avengers, let's do the assembling thing, followed by the pow, bam, zinging."

"And you think that _I_ need to learn to speak thy tongue?" Thor inquires.

Tony's got a really snappy retort, but then the fight starts and it's lost.

Four against one isn't fair, but chivalry's never been one of Tony's weak spots and he's more concerned with them getting out of this unhurt. The wings turn out to be razor-sharp, those tatters perfectly designed to catch and rip. His suit picks up some scratches, but Hawk's bleeding in a few places and the star on Steve's chest has been obliterated with a savage slash.

"Tony, smash," he mutters and goes for the kill.

The creature's ignored him for the most part -- the fight's been fast, as they often are, and it's barely made it to the thirty-second mark. For some reason, the other three moved in first, Hawkeye peppering it with arrows, Thor swinging his hammer, Steve's shield carving air, then metallic monster flesh. There's no room for Tony to strike without hurting a team member. 

He hovers above the action, frustrated, waiting for a space he can fill with something fatal to bugs, and the creature sees him as if for the first time.

Tony has idly wondered what it'll eat now it's in this stage -- and if there's another mutation on the way. From the way it's looking at him, he thinks he's got an answer to the first question.

"Shoulda worn my Iron Butterfly T-shirt," he says to no one in particular, and a jet of green -- more fucking goop -- sprays toward him from the creature's gaping maw, oily droplets glistening, a deadly, destructive mist. He can't get out of the way of all of it, and he watches as part of his suit's forearm begins to melt like chocolate in the sun.

_Fuck._

He flails at it wildly, trying to brush it off, which is so deeply stupid he's mocking himself even as he does it. 

A second spray jets out and he's so distracted by the effects of the first that he doesn't see it until it's too late to take evasive action, but Steve's leaped up, springboarded by a boost from Thor and yeah, good move, Steve's shield will block it and then they can end this--

He realizes Steve's shield is on the ground just as Steve slams into him, taking them down. Steve's heavy on him, but it's a welcome weight for a moment and in the suit, sitting up is easy -- but as he catches his breath, he sees a green droplet coming for his face, syrup-slow and it's dripping from -- oh, _shit_.

Steve's face is covered with it, like a gross giant sneeze caught him. Steve's _face_. 

Tony's suit had melted --

He rises, Steve in his arms, struggling, flailing. God, he can't imagine the pain, and Steve's not screaming, which is worse, because if he's not screaming, maybe he can't, his throat destroyed, clear blue eyes turned to dark, empty craters, that clean line of cheek and jaw blurred and spoiled...

The water's right there and Tony turns his back on the fight and takes them into it, down deep, into the cold, clean salt ocean. He can't look at Steve's face, not yet, not brave enough, but he watches the tendrils of green join the water and dissipate and when he can't risk keeping Steve under water any longer, he takes them up to the light and looks.

Steve's choking, nose running, eyes red, gasping for breath, gloriously furious and unmarked. 

"What the hell?"

"You're okay," Tony says blankly. He lets his visor slide open, needing to see that for himself, with nothing in the way. "I thought you were-- It melted me."

"Doesn't do anything to skin, but I guess that wasn't the ideal way to find out." Water's dripping off Steve's hair, clean, translucent water, and he's looking less pissed. "Thanks."

"Right back at you." Tony shakes his head. "Throwing yourself at me like that. Shameless. Or are we pretending it was heroic, not just you needing a great, big, Iron Man hug?"

"I wasn't--" Steve glares at him, but there's no edge to it now, as if the water's washed away at least some of the crap preventing them from seeing each other clearly. Not all, but enough. "You were in danger. I rescued your ass."

"Bullshit," Tony says cheerfully. "I'm still your favorite Avenger. I knew it."

Steve shoots him an exasperated glance. "You've never been my favorite."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire..." Tony can't keep this up forever. He touches Steve's cheek with his finger, wishing it was skin on skin. "I thought I'd never see you like this again. Whole. Perfect."

He can claim the venom got to him if Steve laughs at the sheer cheesiness of that.

Maybe it's the pint of ocean he's swallowed, but Steve chokes instead, looking, yeah, adorably confused covers it. "I'm not -- You think I'm-- Really?"

The sun's warm on his face or he's blushing. He's going with the sun. Hot day. Scorching. "I think you're--"

"Captain! Iron Man! The monster lies in pieces. How fares it with you?"

Thor's sense of timing is seriously screwed. "Not now, Thor, damn it!" Tony snarls, but the moment's passed.

He'll get it back. He's getting _all_ of it back.

***

Steve's room is dark. It's easier to talk in the dark, somehow, and it doesn't feel like hiding, more like closing out the world so it's just the two of them.

Though there's a memory with them that's like a third person in the bed.

Tony lets Steve talk, the words halting at first, then pouring out. Friendship, love, admiration, lasting years -- then the twist of fate that made Steve the strong one in the friendship.

Tony thinks Steve always was, but he keeps that to himself. Steve knows how special he is on one level, but on another he doesn't and never will, and that's _why_ he's special.

Why he was chosen.

Steve glosses over everything that Tony guesses has been kept private and secret for so long that talking about it would feel like disloyalty. He respects that reticence and really, he doesn't want to know the details. He's got a high enough mountain to climb as it is.

"I'm not like him," he admits. Does he want to be? Clean-cut hero? Not really his style.

"You're not?" Steve laughs, quiet, confiding. "You didn't know him. I know -- knew -- you both. You've got a lot in common. The way you smile. The way you make me feel. You're not him, and I don't want you to be, but you'd have liked him."

"Okay," Tony agrees. It'll wear off, but right now he's all about agreeing with Steve, building a fragile peace into something strong enough to withstand everything they'll throw at it when they get back to normal, which for them means fighting. Unless that was just flirting and they can move past...nah.

"Thanks for letting me tell you about him."

"Thanks for telling me." Tony lets the silence stretch and thin to a waiting expectancy, then puts his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Are you--"

"Yeah. It's time."

Steve's mouth is warm against his a moment later, the taste of him, scrubbed mint, so fucking _clean_ , making Tony realize he'll never measure up. Cap probably brushes for the full two minutes and takes his showers cold.

But when Tony's hand closes around Steve's cock, taking all that heat and hardness in his fist, claiming it, Steve mutters, "Fuck, yes," breathless, demanding, a man, not just a hero, and Tony smiles into the darkness and keeps his mouth shut until Steve gives him a good reason to open it.


End file.
